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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelfi_Ai_2._ 



899 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




POEMS 



■BY 



CHAS. M9CUBBIN 







42221 

COPYRIGHTED 1899 



CHAS. McCUBBINj* 



iEC#N*<*M*V, 



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Author's Preface. 

As the purling, whirling streamlets 

Flow to the ocean's tide, 
So our thoughts, tho' they be dreamlets, 

May some day be known world-wide. 

Would we stop the streamlets flowing 
In their own and natural trend, 

Little thinking and not knowing 

Where at last their course may end? 

As in Nature, too, we find it, \ 
Likewise with the human soul; 

If we but restrain or bind it, 
it may never reach its goal. 



% '•*»* 






CONTENTS: 

Piipe. 

Lines On the Plumage of a Dead Blue Bird, 1. 

Nature's Awakening, 2. 

A Penitent's Prayer, 2. 

Chicken vs. Turkey, 4. 

What One Day Brings 4. 

Just Keep Cool, 5. 

If God be Near, 5. 

A Christmas Carol, 6. 

Children, 6. 

Flowers and Children, 7. 

Our Boys At Lexington, ' . . . . 8. 

Buckwheat Cakes and Maple Syrup, .8. 

The Christian's Hope, $. 

Pleasure and Duty, 10. 

Destiny of True Men, 11. 

Unobstructed Vision, 12. 

Helpfulness, 13. 

Faith, 14. 

My Wants, 14. 

Old Buck; A True Story With a Moral, 15. 

His Thanksgiving Dinner, 16. 

Brotherly Kindness, 16. 

To My Dear Children, 17. 

Aim, Begin, Continue; Or the A, B, C of Success, . . . . 18. 

The Christian Religion, 18. 

Comforting Messengers, 19. 

Power of Prayer and Song, 19. 

Lines To a Small Boquet, 20. 



[ POEMS. 



Lines On the Plumage of a Dead BEue Bird. 

It was in the fall of the year 1897, the author of the following lines while walking 
alone through a clump of wood, came upon a bunch of blue bird feathers, which, 
indicated the bird had been devoured by some bird of prey. From the thought, 
suggested to the author's mind by the color of the feathers, "There's beauty left 
from a life that's gone," the following poem was written. 

While strolling alone in the Autumn wood, 
No sound save the voice of God I heard ; 

When shortly I came, and lo ! I stood 

Where lay the plumage of a dead blue bird. 

No doubt another had heard it's song 

While yet alive it warbled it's lay ; 
But 'twas left to us to come along 

And there behold its plumage gay. 

Yet all through life some seem to walk, 

All unconscious of beauties nigh ; 
Complain there's nothing with which to talk, 

While sermons by scores about them lie. 

Ah! 'Tis because they do not care 
For little things while here on earth, 

And o'er look them for ones more rare 
To give them pleasure or provoke mirth. 



A lesson to me this day is taught 
As through life's lonely vale we go: 

There's beauty in all which God hath wrought. 
Though at my feet it may lie low. 

May we so live that when we're dead, 
And another life shall on us dawn, 

By friends behind may it be said : 

There's beauty left from a life that's gone. 

APPENDIX. 

He who to the world can give a thought 
For good, a wondrous deed hath wrought. 
If otherwise his thoughts were bad, 
Better such thoughts he'd never had. 



Nature's Awakening. 

'Tis April! And nature's bloom 
Is seen returning from its gloom. 
Her charms again the blossoms cheer 
And leaves from bursting buds appear. 

The stillness that covered mother earth, 
Has passed away with all its dearth. 
The singing of the little bird 
From tree and house-top now is heard. 

Next will come the month of May, 
Bright and cheerful, child-like, gay; 
Bringing flowers with fragrance sweet, 
And the grass beneath our feet. 



A Penitent's Prayer. 

Oh! stay thou every moment, Lord ? 

Be ever in my thought; 
Give utterance to my every word 

So that I may err not. 



Help me to feel that there is naught 

I do without thy aid; 
For when in prayer thy help is sought. 

It will not be delayed. 

Lord, cause me for my sins to grieve, 
For wrongs done in the past; 

I'd not have thee my soul relieve 
While yet one sin may last. 

Let a repenting sinner live; 

No more may I offend: 
At last to thee all praise I'll give 

In worlds without an end. 

Dear Lord, I'd not be saved alone 
Whilst others 'round me fall; 

But may I bid them seek thy throne, 
For thou didst die for all. 

Help me some little deed to do, 
Some helpful word to speak, 

That as each day I'm passing through 
I'll give strength to the weak. 

Thou art the pearl of greatest price, 

Most goodly to be sought. 
All others do I sacrifice 

That thou alone be bought. 

Place thou a new song in my heart, 
That I may sing thy praise; 

When from this life I shall depart, 
I'll sing through endless days. 

APPENDIX. 

if to God's laws men give heed. 
For man's laws there'd be less need. 
If his laws were not abused, 
Little need man's laws be used. 



Chicken vs. Turkey. 

Some people like the turkey, 
With cranberries for a sauce; 

But I think a juicy chicken 
With good dressin' is the boss. 

Place them both inside the oven. 

Baste and bake 'em good and brown: 

But that turkey's lackin 1 somethin' — 
There's no dressin' layin' roun'. 

Well, of course it's more a custom 
That the turkey should be served; 

And we find that most of people 
From this rule have never swerved. 

If all people of our nation, 
Or of every land and clime, 

Chose to stick to old, dry turkey, 
I'd take chicken every time. 



What One Day Brings. 

What one day brings, Oh! ask me not 
That I relate the suffering, sorrow, 

That each day falls to some one's lot. 
And may be ours upon the morrow. 

What one day brings, go ask the one 
Who for a child fond hopes did cherish: 

Whose bright career had just begun, 
But fate decreed that one should perish. 



What one day brings, Aye! let those tell 
Whose hearts today from grief are aching 

O'er loved ones who in battle fell 

Jnto that sleep that knows no waking. 

What one day brings cannot be told 

By magic pen of any poet; 
Sorrow depicted we behold 

On faces of the ones who know it. 



Just Keep Cool. 



We are apt to get offended 

At something said or done. 
Which is often but intended 

To provoke a bit of fun. 

If we would but wait a minute — 

Look the matter through and through 

Think it over, see what's in it, 
It would prove the best to do. 

Ah! Too often we discover 

That a man his friend could choke, 
Ere he'd thought the trouble over, 

Then to find 'twas but a joke. 



If God Be Near. 

If God be near, I care not what 
There is in life for me; 

Nor will I e'er bemoan my lot, 
Whatever it may be 

If God be near. 

If God be near, I care not where 
My path through life may lead: 

Though many obstacles be there, 
They'll not my way impede 
If God be near. 



If God be near, I'll firmly stand, 
And on His love depend 

For guidance by His mighty band, 
To keep me to the end. 



A Christmas Carol. 



Wal I used ter think that Christmas didn't 'mount to very much. 
That it was a sort o' pastime fer to please the kids an' such; 
When we'd look fer dear ole Santa, with his dolls an' books an' 

sleds 
Some may think this was all nonsense ole folks "stuffed into our 

heads." 

But I'll tell yer wots the matter, I am awful glad they did 
Stuff my head with jes such nonsense when I was a little kid, 
Fer I'm anxiously awaitin' an' I think I shall enjoy 
Hearin' from the "dear ole feller," same as any little boy. 



Children. 



There's a wealth of tender sweetness clustered round that one 

word — child ; 
For, to us it is symbalical of all that's meek and mild, 
And it is an inspiration as we sit alone and dream — 
It embodies all that's beautiful — it is loveliness supreme. 

In fancy I now picture them as flowerets most fair, 
And their purity, as fragrance of the flowers upon the air; 
And their gentleness of spirit would I liken to the dove 
As they rest so all-abiding in a mother's tender love. 

And their voices, far more musical than all the singers sweet, 
Just to hear their childish prattle makes my happiness complete; 
When in that celestial city, it will fill my soul's desire 
If all the heavenly choristers are children in the choir. 



Flowers and Children. 

Dedicated to the Children's Home Society, of Nevada, Mo., by the Author 

Once when in my days of childhood, 
Whiling 'way the lonely hours; 

When in passing through a wild wood, 
There I saw some lovely flowers. 

And the time had passed most dreary 

Ere the flowers I chanced to see ; 
But the scene at once did cheer me, 
. Seemed that they were there for me 

Oh! they did possess such beauty, 

Growing there beside the way; 
And to pluck them seemed my duty, 

So I made a small boquet. 

And I pinned them to my bosom. 
Taking care that they would stay; 

Knowing if I did not lose them, 
I'd have flowers all the way. 

Ah! today there are so many 

Little children growing wild; 
As for home they haven't any — 

Pity such a little child. 

Let us go out in the highways, 

As the Savior did of old, 
Pluck the children from the byways, 

Gather them into the fold. 

Then our Savior will confess us, 

Angels will record our name; 
Children will rise up and bless us, 

That we rescued them from shame. 



Our Boys at Lexington. 

With sadness I am thinking of our brave and noble men. 
Who left their homes and loved ones their country to defend; 
Bright, happy homes were darkened by the loss of some dear one 
On whom the hand of Death was laid, far down at Lexington. 

How willingly they gave themselves, their very life, their all, 
How quickly did they answer unto their country's call ; 
Nor turned they from their duty, no hardships would they shun, 
But sacrificed home comforts — our boys at Lexington. 

How well we still remember the night they went away, 
They were so very cheerful, so happy and so gay ; 
They did not seem to mind it. to shoulder up a gun ; 
May they be cheerful now as then — our boys at Lexington. 

Then here's to every hero, who shares a soldier's lot, 

In every loyal heart there is for them a tender spot ; 

With joyous pride we think of them, we love them, every one ; 

Oh ! may the God of Heaven bless our boys at Lexington. 



Buckwheat Cakes and flaple Syrup. 

Golly, Ma! put on the griddle, 

Let 'er get right good an' hot. 
Feelin' finer 'n a fiddle? 

Yep, I am, I tell yer what ; 
For the frost the winders blur up, 

An' I'm glad the time has come 
Fer ' buckwheats'' an' maple syrup — 

Hurry up an' bring me some. 

Hully Gee ! but Ma can bake 'em 

Every bit as light as down ; 
' k Bet yer boots'' but she can bake 'em 

Just the purtiest "seal brown." 
Jes 'fore bed-time she will stir up 

Batter fer to set at night, 
Fer she knows the maple syrup's 

Waitin' fer the buckwheats light. 



Here they come, and they are smokin'; 

Whew! but they 're all right when hot. 
Anyone knows I'm not jokin' — 

Fetch along the coffee pot. 
There is nothin' you can stir up 

Can my appetite so please; 
Buckwheat cakes and maple syrup 

Lays it over all with ease. 



The Christian's Hope. 

"For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."— 2 Cor. 
5: 1. 

Behold! in my visions what beauty 

I see in that land far away. 
And but for my love to do duty, 

That longer I care here to stay. 

Oh Father, I pray, keep before me 

The joys of that home above; 
With thy watchful care ever o'er me, 

I'm bound by thy infinite love. 

Though we may have troubles that vex us, 

And burdened with many a care; 
And trials that sorely perplex us, 

Still thou canst keep us from despair. 

For there is a truth we may cherish, 

And never to fainting give way; 
For though doth our outward man perish, 

The inward's renewed day by day. 

Through faith we will never be shaken, 
But faith must be firm, unalloyed; 

Then never will we be forsaken, 

Though cast down we'll not be destroyed. 



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What hope unto us is given, 

That when we're released from this clod, 
That we have eternal in heaven 

A house that is builded of God. 

Friend Sinner, today if you heed Him, 

And unto Him be reconciled, 
You will then have His love when you need Him, 

As a good father loveth his child. 

The evil one will but deceive you, 

And lead you still deeper in sin; 
But God, if you're good, will receive you, 

And to that bright home let you in. 



Pleasure and Duty, 



To fly a kite, most out of sight, 
Is but a sport for boyhood's days; 

But in their turn all boys should learn 
Some work to do, some business ways. 

To spin a top, to jump and hop 

Are other sports all lads enjoy; 
But recollect, you can't expect 

To always be but a boy. 

All fun and mirth, while here on earth, 
Is always seen in childhood's days; 

But years pass by, and you and I 
Are called to act in sterner ways. 

For, hark! alas, the years soon pass, 

We cannot then recall the hours 
When life was bright, and all was light, 

And all our paths were strewn with flowers. 



Destiny of True Men. 

Enough, that men shall eat and drink 
And sleep? But never stop to think. 
To try and formulate some plan, 
That well may end the life of man. 

We know not what is in one life, 
Of trials borne while battling strife, 
Of battles fought, of victories won — 
If thus it were, we say well done. 

We can in some way help to bear 
Another's burdens wrought by care, 
By nobly striving every hour 
To do our best, all in our power. 

Mayhap a kindly word or deed 
Would help some wretched one in need; 
And it may prove the cause to win 
An erring brother from his sin. 

There is a grander, nobler way 

Than to make of life but play. 

Life is best lived, is best enjoyed 

By those with heart and hands employed. 

'Tis their one thought, their soul's delight 
To bear down wrong, to uphold right; 
To do their duty while they live, 
And to the word true life to give. 

They care not where they 're called to go; 
They'd risk their life to meet a foe. 
Their life, their soul is in their work, 
And from their duty will not shirk. 

They've no desire for selfish gain, 
For well they know it oft brings pain; 



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That miseries wrought are manifold 
That men may hoard away the gold. 

They think about that awful day 
When they from earth shall pass away. 
With duty done their life is blest, 
And peacefully they sink to rest. 



Unobstructed Vision. 

The Author, while walking down the street in the late fall or early winter of 
1897, looked up, taking notice that the leaves had fallen from the trees. The view, as 
far as the eye could see, was unobstructed. This seemed typical to his mind that if 
we would only lay aside the leaves of malice, hate, envy, jealousy, evil speaking, and 
learn to love our fellow men, how clear would be our spiritual vision. 

'Tis in the beauteous springtime, when all nature is in bloom, 
And the chilly winds of winter have vanished with their gloom, 
That mother earth takes on new life, and there is much to please, 
But our vision is obstructed, for the leaves are on the trees. 

Then there comes the summer season, and we shall forget it not, 
For to us 'twas quite displeasing, and we'd murmur "Oh, how hot." 
And we tried so many methods from discomfort to find ease, 
And we sought the shady woodland 'neath the leafy covered trees. 

Next to follow is the autumn, when the spring and summer's past, 
And we're feeling sorter chilly at the first approaching blast; 
But if we have acted wisely, we're prepared for days like these, 
If we but foresaw the winter while the leaves were on the trees. 

If we've labored in life's springtime, and have borne the summer's 

heat, 
Never shrank from any duty, never sought a cool retreat; 
If for all we've kindly greeting, and their sorrows sought to ease, 
Then our vision's unobstructed, there's no leaves upon the trees. 



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Helpfulness. 

The Author, upon one occasion, being told that from his physical appearance he 
was not long- for this world, replied: >- It is not by the number of years we live, that 
we give to the world our worth; but it lies in the usefulness we make of our time and 
talents, and the helpfulness we give to others while we are permitted to remain 
here." It was the thought contained in the Author's reply, from which the poem 
was written. 

'Tis not in the number of years we live, ' 
That we give to the world our worth; 

But it lies in the helpfulness we give 
To others, while here on earth. 

The sun in his glory from day to day, 
Sheds it's beams that things may grow 

And blossom, because of each golden ray 
It gives to creation below. 

The dewdrops linger awhile on the flowers, 
And a share of their moisture give; 

Though their length of life is but a few hours, 
They die that the flowers may live. 

It need not be we possess much strength 

While we linger upon this side; 
Nor be given a life of utmost length — 

In a moment a tear may be dried. 

For, in that moment a helpful deed 

We may for someone perform; 
A friendly word might supply a need, 

If it flows from a heart that is warm 

Must the sun and the dewdrop perforin their work, 

Give life to material things, 
While man to others his duty will shirk, 

No beauty to life he brings? 

Nay! Man is given of God a power 

Far grander than either the sun 
Or dewdrop resting upon the flower, 

That a work of love be done. 



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Then let us labor while yet we may, 

And remember that God is love; 
Though our pilgrimage here be but a short stay, 

We'll rest in His presence above. 



Faith. 

'Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith. "—Jesus. Matt. 8: 26. 

We may not always foresee 

What's in store for you and me, 

And I think 'tis well we should not understand; 

But when tempests do arise, 

There's a thought which we should prize, 

That our help and strength is ever near at hand. 

We should never be afraid, 

Nor at trials be dismayed, 

In our Savior's strength we'll weather every gale; 

For with Jesus at the helm 

There's no storm can overwhelm; 

Through faith His power to save shall never fail. 



My Wants. 

The first of all, I want to know 
What God would have me do, 

That I to Him my love may show, 
And unto Him prove true. 

I do not care to know the how, 
The why, the when and where; 

I only care to know that now 
I'm sheltered by His care. 

That He will drive away all fears 

When trials may arise; 
I want that He shall dry the tears 

That may bedim my eyes. 



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I want that He shall ever guide 
My feet in paths of right; 

That He be ever near my side, 
To shield me by His might. 

But last, I want that when the end 
Of my life's span is come, 

That on His grace I can depend 
To guide me safely home. 



Old Buck; A True Story With a Moral. 

The Author chanced to be passing by where lay an old hunting dog dying. Hear- 
ing the praise that was being spoken of him for his faithfulness in the performance 
of duty to his young master, the Author thought and soliloquized thus; If he, but a 
dog, has been so faithful to do his duty to man, how much more faithful should man, 
who is blessed and endowed of God with reason and intellect, made in the image of 
the Creator, be to his Master. 

'Twas only a dog lay there on the ground, 

While his young master and friends gathered round. 

''Poor old Buck! He will soon be dead," 

In words of sorrow his young master said. 

"Faithful old creature, too, was he, 

For always when hunting he went with me. 

At lighting of coons he hadn't a match, 

And on him to show there's many a scratch 

That he received in many hard lights 

That he was in when hunting of nights. 

But now, his fighting will soon be o'er, 

Poor old Buck can't go any more 

With the boys at night to join in the chase, 

And there's no other can fill his place." 

MORAL. 

Only a dog — dumb creature he, 
Yet a lesson he's taught to you and me, 
That we — mankind — our duty should know, 
And follow our Master where he'd have us go. 



16 



His Thanksgiving Dinner. 

Ma was in the kitchen bakin'; 

Thought I'd see what she had cooked, 
Fer 'twas time that she was raakin' 

Somethin' good, so I jes looked. 

Sleeves slipped up nigh to her elbows, 
Apron roun' her, white as snow; 

Tho't I'd stan' an' watch her make those 
Pumpkin pies — say, don't yer know? 

Perspiration almos' streamin' 
Down her dear ole smilin' face; 

An' the puddin' was a steamin' — 
Why, my goodness! I mos' tasV 

Her mince pies there in the oven, 
Ho' made mincers they was too; 

Ma kep' pushin' an' a shovin', 
Fer she had so much to do. 

She mus' have "the turkey" ready, 
Baked an' basted good an' brown; 

But she kep' her nerves as steady, 
Neither did she even frown. 

Jes kep' workin' an' a smilin', 
Sorter hummed a little tune; 

An' the pies she kep' a pilin', 
Fer thanksgivin' is here soon. 



♦'Brotherly Kindness. 

2 Peter 1: 7, 



Our sympathy always and ever should be 
With our fellow men who can't see as we see; 
It is not the way to give sight to the blind 
By scorning and spurning and being unkind, 



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But let each one of us do that which is right, 

It may prove the means of showing them light. 

Then let men as brothers treat each other as a friend, 

And patiently wait to note the gracious end. 

So, when life shall have ended, and we are laid to rest, 

May of each be it said that he did his best. 



To My Dear Children. 

Well, dear children, just rest easy, 

Dear old Santa will be there; 
I have everything to please you, 

And I'll find you anywhere. 

I have been so very busy 

Reading letters I received; 
Why, it makes my old head dizzy, 

And I scarcely could believe 

That my dearies still remember — 
Why, let's see, it's been a year 

Twenty-fifth of this December — 
And that date again so near! 

Tell you what, I'll have to hustle, 
If these stockings are all filled. 

Gracious goodness! I must rustle 
If I go where'er I'm billed. 

My! There are so many places 
Where my children look for me; 

And I want to see their faces 
At their home or Christmas tree. 

Well, dear children, I am sleepy, 

Scarcely can see how to write, 
May the good Lord guard and keep you 

Till I see you, so good night. 

"Santa Claus." 



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Aim, Begin, Continue; or the A, B, C of Success. 

Aim at a purpose that's noble and grand, 
Improving the moments by means at command; 
riaster whatever you may choose to know; 
Begin, though at first your commencement be low. 
Earnestly strive, as you pass day by day, 
Give to the moments that are passing away 
Industry's fruit, store up in your mind 
Noble impulses, and then you will find 
Cares once a burden and quite hard to bear, 
Only a part of life's load each must share. 
Never complain, though your task may seem dull, 
There's never a kernel without there's a hull; 
Industry practiced with good aim in view, 
Never shall fail in its purpose to do. 
Unhesitating the goal must be gained, 
Ending at last with our object attained. 

The Christian Religion. 

I ask for no more; without I'm poor, 

'Tis something that all can aiford; 
It cannot be bought, if rightly 'tis sought 

'Twill be found in seeking the Lord. 

In bearing the cross I suffer no loss, 

But only consider it gain; 
It helps me to see the Lamb on the tree, 

And His blood that cleanseth all stain. 

The spear-pierced side takes away all my pride — 

Oh! may I on God's promises lean, 
Until I shall come to that happy home 

Where his smiles will ever be seen. 

Whilst journeying along with prayer and with song, 

Let's ask it of all those we love, 
To learn the Lord's ways, and join in His praise, 

And meet in the mansions above. 



ie 



Comforting flessengers. 



One day. while very sick, the Author was alone lying upon a cot. Looking out 
of the window he watched the little birds chirping and flying about, and thus was 
made to forget his suffering. 

The little birds do chirp and sing, 
And gaily sport upon the wing, 
While I upon my cot must lay, 
And slowly while the hours away. 

Not slowly, while I hear their song, 
The time doth seem not half so long 
The while I hear the joyous note 
That pours from merry warblers' throat. 

Must all my comfort now depend 
Upon the cheerfulness they lend, 
While man himself will not come nigh, 
Although a fellow-man may die? 

'Tis well with him who hath but heard 
The cheerful note of little bird; 
For, even they our sorrows soothe, 
And help to make our pillow smooth. 

Sweet bird, that cheerfulness did bring 
To soul of mine. Oh! may you sing, 
And cheer the lonely and the poor, 
Thus aiding them their lot endure. 



The Power of Prayer and Song. 

Be not content to pass along 
Through life without a prayer or song; 
These blessings to us God hath given 
To lift the soul from earth to heaven. 

How sweet, when troubles do arise, 
And would becloud our clearest skies, 



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To seek the Lord in earnest prayer, 
And plead His aid our griefs to share. 

By song, the soul on wings of love 
Is borne to realms of joy above; 
And feels no sorrows, griefs nor pains, 
But dwells in peace where Jesus reigns. 



Lines To a Small Boquet. 

As we see the beauty 
In this small boquet, 

So in doing duty 

We'll see some each day. 

His thought must be shallow 
Who no duty knows; 

With nothing to hallow — 
But thorns and no rose. 

If we live in pleasure, 
Midst idly spent hours 

Of inactive leisure, 

We'll then see no flowers. 




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